


Impractical Assets

by Khat



Category: White Collar
Genre: A/U, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BDSM, But Everybody Loves Him Anyway, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, Just Mental Instability, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Neal's Messed Up, Overly Understanding Elizabeth, Peter's Mostly A Good Guy, Rape/Non-con Elements, but not really, that should be a tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-01 08:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15770022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khat/pseuds/Khat
Summary: Neal Caffrey's entire life is built on a lie, one known only to his best friend and mentor, Mozzie.  Confident and quite able to take care of himself, the omega has no desire or need (in his opinion) to be at the end of an Alpha's leash.  In fact, the thought of taking a knot or bearing children makes him sick, and the sound of an Alpha's Voice, the tone that usually commands obedience, only makes him more contrary.  So he lets the world think he's something else completely.Until one night in London, when Peter Burke rescues him from the attentions of a trio of Alphas and his greatest secret is revealed.Peter just wants to see the young conman safe with a compatible Alpha.  Neal just wants to be able to live life, and not be forced into a role that doesn't fit him.  Neither can see that the answer is lying right in front of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And here we have the first in what shall be known as 'The Great Story Dump'. Or not, maybe. That sounds a little pompous.
> 
> Anyway, as always, updates may be variable. It basically depends on where my scatterbrained mind happens to end up. More stories online means more chance that at least 'something' will get updated. Possibly.
> 
> A few points about MY omegaverse. You can skip this, if you want, but it does make a few things clearer.
> 
> Alphas and omegas have extra glands in their body, the omegaren glands, or 'mating glands', which are in the usual place at the sides of the neck towards the back, and the alphagen glands, which are located at the front of the neck, around the collarbone area. These control the Alpha/omega physiology, and, to a point, the instincts and personality, and are both missing in Betas. Inhibitors and Suppressants directly depress the omegaren production to different extents, making the omega more beta-like, although ones with already high alphagen levels may appear to be low-level Alphas. There are also medications to increase omegaren or alphagen production, both legal and not.
> 
> The sub-genders are rated on a D/s scale that ranges from low-level omegas (the meekest and quietest, generally with the most omegaren production) through mid-level and high-level (although Betas have neither omegaren or alphagen, they are also separated into low, mid, and high based on general personality) to the high-level Alphas (strongest Alphagen production, most dominant) who are also occasionally referred to as Alpha Primes. There are, of course, individuals that don't really fit into their category properly, as well, and a person's rating may change over time as their hormone productions change.
> 
> Finally, male omegas have a reproduction system that operates somewhat similar to the esophagus/trachea set-up. During Heat 'upswings', the rectum empties itself, and the breeding passage opens, allowing sperm to enter. During downswings and off-Heat periods, the breeding passage closes, preventing entry of foreign material. Omegas also produce a slippery antimicrobial substance that cleans and lubricates, from glands located in the anal passage. They are not capable of giving birth this way, though, and children must be taken out via caesarean.

It was in London when Special Agent Peter Burke first discovered Neal Caffrey’s secret.

It had been entirely accidental, actually.  He had been there after the young forger, yes, but he had been out running in Gibbons Park; the mindless exercise helped to clear his head, especially when it had to do with his counterpart.  Caffrey was a conundrum.  The profile they had on him said he was probably a Beta, or possibly a low-level Alpha, and while a lot of his behaviour fit, his cocky attitude, his intelligence and propensity for acting out, something had always seemed off about it, something the agent couldn’t quite put his finger on.

It was the sound that drew his attention, a half-strangled yelp, followed by a loud spat of cursing.  Peter slowed, turning to look, a movement behind some bushes catching his attention.

It wasn’t really smart, going to investigate.  He was unarmed, and it was late enough that the park was mostly empty.  Still, he was an Alpha, on the high end of the mid-level, an FBI agent (with his credentials on him) and trained in hand-to-hand combat, so he felt reasonably safe.  Besides which, he had passed a pair of Bobbies not too far back.

“Hold still, you little bastard.”  A voice snarled as he got closer.  “Little bitch like you, out here this late, you were just begging to get yourself stuffed full of…”

“FBI, freeze!”  Peter announced.  He knew what was going on now.  Some poor omega had obviously been out for a walk or something, and this Alpha punk had decided to take a taste.  The agent couldn’t stand that type of hind-brained fool, who felt that their designation gave them the right to push around Betas and prey on omegas.

The Alpha brats, there were three of them – THREE – froze and then scattered.  Peter didn’t bother chasing after them, he had no jurisdiction over them, and their victim was the more important one at the moment.

“Are you okay?”  He asked, softening his voice so as not to frighten the omega further, a male, he noted.  The boy lifted his head suddenly slowly, blue eyes focusing on him and wide with fear.  The agent caught his breath, taking a step forward.  It was then that he caught the scent, an odd muddy musk that still couldn’t quite hide the sweetness of a pre-Heat omega.

“Caffrey,” was all he could say for a moment, shocked.  In all the scenarios, he had never considered that the brash young conman might be an omega.

Omegas had once been rare, a small aberrant percentage of the population.  Females were physically normal, albeit with all the mental and hormonal traits of their designation, but males had the ability to both bear children if bred during Heat, (Alphas had the best chances, but Betas, or even other omegas, could occasionally do so as well), and impregnate a woman or another omega themselves.  Generally beautiful, delicate-looking creatures, though tougher than they appeared, the males were especially sought after by powerful Alphas.  Over time, they had been selectively bred, and the percentage of the population was much higher now, most kept in private collections.  Peter knew of a few low-level businessmen who had a dozen or more in their personal harems.  Overcompensating, in his opinion.  Or trying to hide their proclivities, since bedding a male omega, by some foolish logic, didn't make you gay. 

Although, the designation did fit with a few of Caffrey’s other characteristics, Peter supposed, his aversion to violence, his tendency to run, his ability to charm everyone around him, and, of course, his slender figure and pretty features.

The other man moved suddenly, then, trying to dodge away, and Peter responded, as much Alpha hind-brain registering an omega trying to escape as Agent Burke registering a criminal, but the result was the same, as he caught Caffrey’s arm, pulling him close and trying to pin him without actually hurting him.  The smaller man struggled viciously.

“Let me go!”

 **“Stop it.”**   He snapped, Alpha Voice strong in his tone.  The criminal slumped suddenly, and Peter had to shift his hold to keep from dropping his unexpectedly boneless armful.  Slowly he settled down, kneeling, being careful not to loosen his grip at all.  The pre-Heat actually helped; Peter would never try to take advantage of an omega in Heat, not sexually, but the instincts, he knew, should make the conman even less confrontational and more inclined to obey an Alpha.  And what was Peter going to do with his unexpected captive now, anyway?  He hadn’t brought his handcuffs, not that they would hold Caffrey anyway.

“Peter, don’t, please.”  Well, at least he was aware of who held him.  That was a good sign.

“Calm down.  I’m not going to hurt you.”  Moving slowly and carefully, Peter shifted his hold, reaching for the nape of the omega’s neck, for the nerves there, which would ‘Settle’ him, causing a temporary paralysis.  The Alpha could then phone for back-up.  It would take a bit for his team to get there, but maintaining the hold prolonged the effect.

And he should have known better than to give the other any opportunity.  The omega suddenly gave a sharp jerk, and though Peter hadn’t been expecting it, he kept his hold, but missed the proper points to activate the nerves, a task made harder by the fact that he had never actually done it before.  The elbow that dug itself into his side right after, though, was another story, and Peter’s hold loosened as he gasped at the sudden pain.  His captive wriggled loose, scrambling to his feet and taking off.

“Caffrey!”  The agent called, getting up himself.  He didn’t bother chasing after him.  The other man was faster than him, he knew, and had a headstart besides.  He wouldn’t catch him again tonight.

So, instead, Peter walked back to his hotel, head full of a whole new set of worries involving his quarry now, and added a neat printed note to his copy of Caffrey’s profile; Designation: omega.

 

******

 

It was two weeks later when Peter next heard from his quarry.  He was actually back in New York, having been called back after Caffrey’s trail had gone completely cold, working on more typical work, when his phone rang.  He answered it with an absent “Special Agent Peter Burke”, more intent on a connection in the fraud case he was working on.  It completely lost its hold, though, when a cheery voice answered his greeting.

“Peter,” Peter instantly hit the button on the digital recorder connected to his desk phone, “I would have thought you would be out catching bad guys on such a nice day.”  He snapped his fingers at Mitchells, next to him, the other agent instantly picking up his own phone and calling for a trace on Peter’s.  This wasn’t the first time the forger had phoned him at work.

“Tell me where you are,” he answered, then, “and I will be.”

“I’m hurt.  I’m not a bad guy.”

“I know exactly _what_ you are, Caffrey.”  Peter pointed out, pleased when the statement was met with silence.  His guess was right, the criminal was testing the waters, now that his secret was out.  By all rights, Peter should have notified the OCC, Omega Care and Control, about him.   “Are you all right?”

He half expected some quip or something, but the omega’s answer was serious, if still light.

“I’m fine.  I rode it out with a Beta friend.”  That was good to hear, and Peter held back a sigh of relief.  The thought of him trapped under some hind-brained Alpha, or worse, dead, had worried him the past two weeks.

“Turn yourself in, Caffrey, and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of, settled into a nice omega centre until you find a safe Alpha.”  Omegas were usually considered to be lesser members of the community, little more than slaves, really, governed by strict laws that were administered by the OCC, the international organization that oversaw all things omega, including unregistered ferals, such as Caffrey apparently was.  Omegas were required to be registered by their guardian or Bonded Alpha, (as adult dependants; some unsavoury Alphas used this as a tax-break, forcing their ‘pets’ into inhumane conditions, which kept Civil Rights busy,) or, in rare cases, as emancipated, if their Alpha was no longer available or unfit to govern them, which came with its own risks.  Troublesome or orphaned omegas and captured ferals were often held at the OCC centres, safely and comfortably housed, and, if necessary, trained, or retrained, until they could be paired up with an Alpha partner.   The housing could be a double-edged sword, though, since omegas without interested advocates were often ‘sold’ to Alphas who offered large donations to the centres.

“I don’t want an Alpha.  I’m fine on my own.”  The omega retorted.

“Until you come across another group of hind-brains right before a Heat?  What are the chances I’m going to be around to rescue you again?”

“I would have been fine.  I got away from you easily enough.”  The other male answered, just a slightly sulky hint to his tone.

“Yes, because I was more interested in putting cuffs on you than in taking what else was on offer.”  That got him another moment of silence and Peter smirked.  Burke: 1, Caffrey: 0.

“It was your fault, anyway.”  The sulkiness was stronger now.  “If you hadn’t chased me out of Copenhagen so fast, I wouldn’t have got stuck without my pills.”

“Without your…  Are you using suppressants?  Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”  Peter’s voice was a low hiss.  While prescription inhibitors were regularly available and considered safe to dull Heat symptoms during awkward periods, suppressants shut down the entire hormone production.  For short periods, they weren’t too dangerous, but long term, they could cause serious physical and psychological complications.  And any that the conman would be able to get his hands on (since drug theft had never been added to his list of offenses) would have to be black market, which was even more dangerous.

“I’m not stupid, Peter.  I know how to use them properly.”

“No, you’re not stupid, which means you know exactly how badly this could turn out.  You’ve had a nice run, but it’s time for it to end before you get yourself into real trouble.”

There was a long moment of silence, and Peter would almost have thought the other had hung up on him, if he hadn’t heard the sounds of voices in the background.  A park, possibly.

“See you later, Peter.”  Caffrey said, finally, and then Peter heard the snap of a flip-phone closing, just before the dialtone came on.

“Did you get him?”  He asked Mitchells with a sigh.  The other man shook his head, but it was disbelief, not denial.

“The little bastard was sitting right out in the plaza.”  He answered.  “Bold little mouse.  He’s honestly an omega?”

“I caught his scent myself.”  Peter considered a moment, then stood.  “I’m going down to Contraband.  Caffrey’s been using suppressants, maybe we can corner him that way.”  There was no sense in going down to the plaza to look for him, he’d be long gone already.

“Good luck.  I’ll give Organized Crime a call, see if they have anyone selling on their radar.”

“Thanks, John.”  The agent headed for the elevators, even more determined, now, to bring Caffrey in, sooner, rather than later.

 

******

 

“Hello?”  Peter had been sleeping, having an odd, but rather interesting dream, in which he was chasing Caffrey, both of them riding on carousel animals, he on a lion decorated in a silver and blue velvet harness and Caffrey on a white unicorn with crystal horn and hooves, wearing elaborate and extensively bejewelled golden tack.  Elizabeth and the new guy, Jones, had been sitting on the sidelines cheering, while Hughes yelled reminders to finish the paperwork.

That was definitely one of his more unusual ones…

“Peee-terrrr.”  A voice chimed in his ear, far too cheery for, he glanced at the clock, 3 am.

“Caffrey?”  That was who it sounded like to him.  Sitting up, he tugged the charge cord out of the phone absently.  Elle was visiting her sister, so he didn’t have to worry about waking her up, at least.  “Why are you phoning me now?  How did you even get my cell number?”

“Why do you always use my last name?  You should call me Neal, we’re buddies.”  There was a moment’s silence and Peter wondered if maybe he was actually still asleep and dreaming.  Caffrey sounded even giddier than usual.

“We are buddies, aren’t we, Peter?”  And with the amount of uncertainty the omega put into those six words, how was he to answer any differently?

“Yes, Neal,” he sighed.  “We’re buddies.”  He held the phone away a bit as he tried to stop a yawn.  “Why don’t you tell your buddy where you are, so I can come pick you up and take you somewhere safe.”  Unless he missed his guess, Neal was high on something.

“I’m…”  Peter blinked, actually wide awake now.  He hadn’t honestly thought Neal would answer the question, but if he did, it would certainly make Peter’s life a lot easier.  Even if he couldn’t use anything he might say, at least he’d have him contained.  And you didn’t need proof of a crime to force a runaway omega into a centre, only a ruling of incompetence from a judge.  Neal’s continued use of the suppressants, something that could be medically tested for, and his lack of a responsible Alpha or Beta partner, was enough for that.  It would be a dirty trick, admittedly, and he’d hate Peter for it, but he’d be safe, not out stealing and forging and risking a knife in the back or a bullet in the chest.  Or vice versa.

“I’m safe here.  It’s Thursday.”

“Actually, it’s Saturday, now.”  And thankfully, he didn’t have to be up early in the morning.

“Saturday?  No?  That’s over at…”  The voice trailed off as Peter distinctly heard a door slamming and another voice, too quiet to make out any more than that it was male.

“But it’s Pee-terrr…”  Neal protested in response.

“Neal, who are you talking to?  Where are you?”  Peter was concerned now.

“Who is this?”  The mystery man had the phone now, obviously, and Peter could hear Neal’s protests in the background.

“Special Agent Peter Burke.  Who are you?  Did you drug Caffrey?”

“Oh, the Alpha Suit.”  The voice was bored, and vaguely disdainful.  “Neal will be fine.  Since _you_ cut off his usual supply of suppressants, he apparently went to someone less reputable.”  Peter felt a little guilty, but resolved to find out just who they had brought in recently.

“And why should I trust you?”  He asked.  “I have no idea who you are.  You could be an omega-trader for all I know.” 

“I’ve known Neal since long before the institution turned its evil eye his way.”  Peter just shook his head.  Was this guy for real?

“If anything happens to him, I’m coming after you.”  Peter warned.  And, honestly, since when was he that concerned about the omega?  Well, actually, that was easy to answer.  Since he had found out he was an omega, of course.  He had found himself liking the criminal before that, but, with that complication, his natural Alpha instinct was kicking in.

“So noted, Suit.”  And the stranger hung up.

 

******

 

Eventually, Kate Moreau turned out to be the lynchpin.  A high-level Beta, Moreau had been on the FBI’s watch list for a while, but they had never actually caught her at anything, nor had enough evidence to really go after her.  It was Peter, though, looking over old surveillance photos and notes, who had made the connection between the two, and then it had been almost too simple to lure their omega target in.

Caffrey had gone easily, of course.  He had smiled at his arresting officer, had even thanked him, which had gotten him a few curious looks, but Peter had just shrugged it off.  He was an omega, after all.

Wherever the felon had found a new supply of the suppressants, though, after that early morning phone call, they were good quality, and powerful.  It was only his calm demeanour, and Peter’s insistence, that had him in a solitary omega cell, rather than in with the general holding cells.  It took three days, with the typical withdrawal symptoms that proved he had been on _something_ , before his lighter scent started to reveal itself beneath the artificial tones, and a full five before the supervising Beta admitted that, yes, he was an omega, just riding the line between a low and mid-level one, according to his bloodwork, although the psychologist who tested him after disagreed, insisting his D/s score was that of an unusually high level.

That ongoing argument aside, the conman’s crimes were non-violent, and, while the accusations were numerous, they only managed to nail him for Bond forgery.  He would be remanded to a high security omega centre until a suitable Alpha was found for him.

Peter had managed to ensure the omega’s safety there, as well.  The judge, by chance, was an old acquaintance, and the prosecutor had worked a number of his cases before, so when he requested privately that he be listed as Caffrey’s legal guardian, which would require him to approve any potential mate, citing the need to ensure that the omega didn’t just get a friend to bail him out, or end up with a potentially abusive and manipulative rival, the pair easily agreed and the defense attorney didn’t bother to argue it.  So, it was under the signature and protection of Peter Burke that one Neal Caffrey was logged into Sunset Hills omega Centre.

 

******

 

The first year was troublesome.  Caffrey did have a few Alphas from his old life appear, though the requests rarely went so far as to cross Peter’s desk, Neal refusing most of them on his own.  The few that did (which, in one case, was an oily Alpha named Keller, who was extremely insistent about seeing the omega) were summarily refused, in most cases obvious attempts by Neal’s mysterious partner (Peter had decided that must have been who he was talking to that night) to get him out.

The worst problem, though, was the Alphas that the centre kept throwing at their captive.  The meetings were supervised, of course, as were any that the criminal had with outside interactions, usually taped meetings that were then forwarded to Peter’s e-mail for approval.  None of them ever got a second meeting.  Neal had a proud nature, and, though he was also manipulative, he wouldn’t stoop to the grovelling that more agreeable omegas often resorted to.  Contrarily, the more dominant the suitor, the more smart-mouthed and confrontational the omega would get.  That, combined with his criminal past, made him a perfect target for the more abusive Alphas, the ones who wanted someone to tear apart.

And the conman caused enough trouble himself.  Five escape attempts in as many weeks earned him a security collar, a leather-backed chainmesh restraint that restricted his movements in the buildings, with a locator that responded to the centre’s computer system, keeping track of his exact location, and, for a short time, a constant guard.

Finally, though, things settled down.  Neal seemed to resign himself to his current lifestyle, the centre personnel finally accepted that he wasn’t going to be foisted off on whoever had the most money, and the reports slowed to a generally quiet monthly update.

So when, early in the second year, Kate put in a request to visit, Peter only considered it a short time before agreeing to allow her weekly supervised visitation.

And time moved by, slowly, and yet quickly.  The reports came, month after month, fairly identical, ‘omega is in good health, has been moderately well-behaved, refused suggested Alpha mates.’  Cards arrived on his and Elizabeth’s birthdays, Christmas, other holidays, along with cookies or chocolates or other little treats; a fruit basket, the first year.  It was obvious that Neal had charmed at least one of his Beta overseers, since Peter couldn’t see him convincing Kate to buy or send them.  Peter, feeling guilty, went out and bought a card himself, the first Christmas, which had earned him a faintly disparaging look from his wife.  She had arranged for a full care package to be sent, along with a sketchbook and coloured pencils.  Peter, after some consideration, set up a small stipend to keep the omega occupied.  It seemed to be accepted happily, if the rate at which it disappeared each month and the beautifully decorated hand-made card Peter received for his next birthday was any indication.

At some point early on in the third year, the collar was removed, due to Neal’s good behaviour.  Peter got a notification, but by then he had been busy chasing after the Dutchman, and he had just scanned it and then deleted it, the matter already forgotten.

And then, just three months shy of his fourth full year, Neal ran.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next two and a half chapters are going to follow the events of the first episode. I'm not usually a fan of just changing a couple things and copying the rest of the show, so I've tried to mix it up a bit to cover important bits while skimming over the basic plot. (extended scenes, etc.)
> 
> Please note that some storyverse info has been added to the first chapter, that explains a few key points.

Peter was furious, of course, not only at the centre, but at Neal himself.  Although, when he looked over the last tape of Kate’s visit, heard her tell Neal she was tired of waiting, and he should just accept one of the Alphas as a new mark or she was gone, his anger faded slightly.  And when he found the morose omega in the empty apartment, a wine bottle in hand, it disappeared into sympathy.

“They’re going to put the collar back on for this,” he pointed out, needlessly.

“I don’t care,” Neal answered, closing his eyes.  “We both know I’m never leaving there anyway.”

“It could happen,” the Alpha argued.  His captive scoffed.

“Any Alpha who’d be willing, and able, to handle me wouldn’t be one you’d accept.”  Peter was beginning to come to that conclusion himself, so he didn’t argue it, simply calling the all-clear down to the centre’s retrieval unit.  Both men were silent a moment.

“They want to have me cut,” the omega said finally.  Peter tensed just a little.  He hadn’t known Neal had discovered that.  Cutting the male omegas, removing the Alphagen glands, was supposed to make them quieter and more agreeable, much like castrating.  It had become a fashion among some Alphas lately, since it also made them more androgynous and promiscuous, as well.  It ruined their scents though, in his opinion.

“I know,” he answered, finally.  “I told them no.”  There was no way in hell he was going to allow anyone to mutilate his charge, just so he would be easier to handle.  He was a human, not an animal.  Neal just laughed bitterly.

“They want to break me quickly, and you just want to do it slowly.”  Peter blinked, then sighed.

“Neal…” he began, then realised he didn’t know exactly what it was he wanted to say.

“Huh.”  The other man stood, a hint of amusement finally lighting the blue eyes.  “That’s the same suit you were wearing when you caught me.”  Peter shrugged and gave a casual excuse.  He honestly hadn’t noticed.  Then Neal reached out, cautiously, as if he were afraid of earning a retaliation, and pulled one of the threads from the bank vault off his suit.

“Do you know what this is?”  Peter had no clue.

“If I tell you, is it worth a meeting?”  There was a hopeful tone in the younger man’s voice, but Peter was a little suspicious.  “Please, Peter, just a meeting,” Neal begged, turning to look at the guards who were moving down the hall and then back, blue eyes pleading.  “I’m lonely.”  Peter could pick up his scent clearly now, untainted by the drugs that had muddled it the last time they had been this close, honey and fruit and just a hint of wine, sweet and enticing, even with the overtone of misery.

“All right,” the Alpha agreed, deciding to stop by even if Neal didn’t know what it was.

And the answer then was so outrageous that Peter almost dismissed it out of hand, simply holding the thread as the omega was dragged off, headed back to the centre.

 

******

 

A week later, Peter stood in the centre’s meeting room, a guard keeping watch.  Neal, as the agent had predicted, again wore the collar, and Peter could see where it chafed his neck a little, the skin reddened despite the protective leather backing.

“How did you know?” the agent asked, right off.  The omega seemed more cheerful, now, but his scent still carried that sad, almost depressed, tone.

“It’s what I do,” he answered vaguely, then gave Peter a curious look.  “When did you start calling me by my first name?”  The Alpha shrugged, not surprised by the sudden topic change.

“I don’t know.  After the fruit basket, maybe.”

“With the allowance…”

“You seemed to like that, I noticed.”

“I did,” Neal agreed.  Peter straightened, done with the small talk.

“Well, I’m here, like you asked,” he prompted.

“I know why you call him the Dutchman,” the conman began, laying out his knowledge quickly, and then an offer to help.

“And how do you plan to do that?” Peter asked in return.  “Have you found a new suitor I haven’t heard about yet?”

“You could take me.”

“I’m married, Neal, as I’m sure you know.”

“It’s not breaking any laws.”  There was that pleading tone, again, and the misery in his scent deepened.  “You and I both know plenty of married Alphas keep omegas on the side.  And it’s not like I’d expect anything like that, you know I’m straight.”  Peter did know.  It was almost unheard of for an omega to be entirely one way or the other; most showed preferences, of course, sometimes very strong ones, but Peter had never heard of one, with the occasional exception of a victim of a recent abusive situation, with the complete aversion that Neal had.  He wouldn’t let even the other male omegas near him during Heat, let alone the Betas or an Alpha.  And that was on top of him being unusually aggressive during that time.

“I have no desire to mess up your marriage.  Just have me released, under your supervision.  I’ll even wear the collar.  It can be fitted with a proper gps tracker and set to a radius.  If I could have gotten out of this thing you know I would have done it by now.”  He pushed a folder across the table, showing the specs for a similar version.

“And you’d be after Kate within a week.”

“I promise, Peter, I won’t run.”

“I know you, and I know you’re just looking for a way out.  Nice try, Neal.”  He scooped up the papers, gave the omega a fond pat on the shoulder and left the room, trying not to feel guilty as he looked back and saw the slumped shoulders and miserable posture.

 

 ******

 

Neal felt like crying, later on in his room.  He didn’t, tears were weakness, and Neal Caffrey, of all people, couldn’t allow himself to appear weak, not if he ever wanted to be taken seriously, but he felt like it.

The whole escape had fallen apart horrifically.  It had started out excellently, better than he had hoped, the uniform and the scent-cancelling spray managing to get him past the guards and the sensors, the re-striped card getting him through the locks.  He had been out, and free, for the first time in four years, including the time between his capture and when he had been dropped in the omega prison.

Only to find Kate packed up and gone, just like the first time.  This time, though, he hadn’t had the luxury of time to wallow in his misery.  This time, Peter had been on his trail in a matter of hours, and even if he had been in any mood to try to evade him, he wouldn’t have had the resources.

Shifting, he tried to find a comfortable position on the hard mattress of his ‘bed’, the small cot that was standard for the omegas imprisoned here.  The tiny rooms, cells, really, weren’t meant to be comfortable; the cot, with a shelf above it, a toilet and sink in the other corner and a small table built into the wall.  Neal had never been in a regular prison, but he figured they couldn’t be much different, except that, instead of a barred entrance, they had metal doors here, doors that still locked, with a small open window so that the guards could check on their charges.

Wetness pooled in his eyes again and he blinked it away frantically.  When he had first arrived here, he had thought it wouldn’t be too bad, charm the guards, enjoy himself for a couple months, like a vacation, and then figure out a way to con himself out, preferably legally.  He hadn’t planned for Peter to take such an interest, although it was probably better for him that the agent did, since his charms seldom worked on the Betas here, who were well-accustomed to ‘omega tricks’, as a few had put it, and who were only interested in the bonuses they received for placing an omega.  The more the Alpha was willing to pay, the bigger their bonuses, so they would have been quite happy to toss him to the first hind-brain who seemed interested.

At least at the centre, he was only abused verbally, not physically.

The collar he wore rubbed at the sore spot at his neck and he lifted a hand to shift it, trying for a more comfortable position there, as well.  It wasn’t supposed to chafe, but maybe it wasn’t fitted right or something, because it always seemed to sit wrong on that spot.

Well, he’d get used to it in time, he supposed.  He had the first time, after all, and he had the rest of his life, now.  He hadn’t been lying in the apartment.  Peter _wouldn’t_ accept any Alpha for him who would have wanted to take him.  Mozzie had already tried the very few Alphas they would have trusted, and even, honestly, a few Neal was rather wary about, as well. 

Already, he was feeling himself falling back into the dull mindlessness that the guards encouraged here, the ‘proper behaviour’ of an omega, after the re-energizing jolt his escape had given him.  He tried to fight it, with his pranks and tricks, despite the punishments those earned him, (and he had learned quickly who _not_ to mess around with, ever,) but the years, the days, each the exact same as the one before, were wearing down on him.  He thought it was early March, now, but he wasn’t sure what day it was, exactly; he’d have to ask one of the guards.  Bobby, maybe; he was the best of the batch, one of the few who felt sorry for their strong-willed captive.

Or, maybe he wouldn’t bother.  It didn’t really matter, did it?  Neal wondered absently how long it would actually take before Peter changed his mind and agreed to have him de-glanded, or the agency that ran the centre went to the courts and had his protector’s refusal overruled.  Hell, Peter could end up dying in the midst of some case, and then he would be completely defenceless, Cut and sold and destined to spend the rest of his life as some bone-headed Alpha’s sextoy and breeding mare, forced to pop out child after child, carrying each birth scar forever after, the omegas doomed to his same fate.

He hated even the idea.  He was a man, secondary gender notwithstanding, and the thought of having some other man buried inside him, and then carrying a child and being cut open to free it, was…  Well saying it felt repulsive might have been somewhat sexist, but it was the most accurate description.  If other people liked it, then he had no issue with what they did, but to him, it was a fate wore than death.

But it seemed that was to be his lot in life, now.  That or spending it in here, slowly dying by degrees until what was ‘Neal Caffrey’ disappeared entirely.

Maybe it was worth crying over after all.

 

******

 

 Peter did feel guilty.  All the way home, through dinner and after.  Guilty enough that he found himself looking through the collar specs, as well as his Caffrey file.  The cards that the conman had sent were there, along with all the other little trinkets, a couple old receipts, a yellow origami butterfly that he had found on the dash of his locked car in Madrid after a futile chase.

“Are you coming to bed tonight?” Elle asked, coming downstairs in one of his old shirts.  She knew that he always liked seeing her in his clothing, liked smelling their mingled scents.  As a Beta, she didn’t have the enhanced sense of smell that he did, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t understanding about it, wearing light, Alpha-safe scents.

“Yeah,” he answered absently.

“Oh, Neal Caffrey again?  I’ve been competing with him for forever…”  Peter felt a bit guilty at that, but her tone was faintly teasing; she knew him too well to be worried that he’d leave her for a pretty omega, charming as he was.  “Don’t tell me he’s back to causing trouble?”

“No, he’s safe at the centre,” he paused, then sighed.  “He wants me to take him.”  Elizabeth frowned at that.

“I know he knows you’re married…” she commented cautiously.  There _was_ always that fear, the Alpha supposed, buried deep as it was.

“Yeah, he brought up the harem practice.”  It was no secret that Peter didn’t approve of that particular convention, that you could have as many omegas as you wished, so long as you could properly care for them.  As if they were a herd of cows or a pack of dogs or something.  Actually, generally, the dog comparison fit well to the common opinion.  “He has no interest in being my omega, though.  He offered to help out on my cases.”

“Can he?”

“He’s smart.”

“Smarter than the ivy league co-eds they keep throwing at you?”

“He’s almost as brilliant as the woman I married,” Peter quipped, knowing that would please her.  “For a Beta or an Alpha, he would be considered above average.  For an omega, he’s a genius.  And he’s clever, too.”  Omegas weren’t generally known for their intellectual ability; after all, your cows didn’t need to know how to fill out paperwork, or do complex math equations.  Nor were they encouraged to be clever; you didn’t want the dogs figuring out how to get out of their cages.  Peter had always wondered, though, if they were actually stupid, or if it was just a defense mechanism.  Although, Neal _was_ wild-born, one of the anomalies that occasionally came from a Beta/Beta or Alpha/Beta pair with omega backgrounds, or, even less likely, an Alpha/Alpha pair.  He would have been documented, otherwise, his DNA and ancestry in the omega registry database, and he had had no familial link to any dam or sire who could have produced him, or any that might have been siblings, though there were a few in D.C. who might have been second or third cousins.  His traits were luck of the draw, not bred for.

“He said something, Elle, back in the apartment…  He knows they want to cut him.  I told him I wouldn’t allow it, and he said they wanted to break him quickly, but I was doing it slowly…”

“Oh, Honey…”  She hugged him close, knowing how that statement must have hurt him.  Her Alpha husband was surprisingly soft-hearted, and the thought that he was actually destroying someone who he had only wanted to help must have been tearing him up.

“It’s not only the harem practice,” she decided aloud.

“It can’t just be Kate, and if he hated the centre that much, he would have accepted one of the Alphas.  They weren’t all the abusive sort.  He has to have another angle,” Peter admitted.  “I just can’t see what it is.”

“So, you’re saying he broke out of the centre, knowing full well you would catch him and put him back, and barely even trying to run, really, just to beg you to get him out again?”  She gave her husband an incredulous look.  “I think his other angle is he trusts you.”  Peter huffed, started to say something, then paused, considering it.  The omega had always been unusually interested in his pursuer, and it could have just been a game, but…  But he remembered that phone call, that night when Neal had been drugged up.  He had passed it off at the time as a randomly dialled number, maybe the last one he had called on that phone or something; except that, now that he thought about it, Neal _had_ called him by name, after only one mumbled word.  No, he had known who he was calling.

“And we both know the only sort who visit the centres,” Elle continued, “are people looking for broodmares or playthings, and most of them are male.”  She knew about Neal’s proclivities as well; Peter had complained about it often enough, even if he did accept the decision despite the difficulty it posed.  Female Alphas weren’t all that common; while physically the same, they tended to have more trouble conceiving than Beta or omega women, especially when paired with lower-ranked men, although their offspring were almost always Alphas.  “Maybe he’d have better luck finding an Alpha under your watch.”

“That is possible…  You know, you always have the best advice,” Peter commented after a moment, turning to kiss his gorgeous Beta wife, his decision made.  “And I’ve spent too much time worrying about temperamental omega conmen.  I should be in bed with my wife.”  She gave him a knowing smile and headed off upstairs, giving a seductive look back.  Peter flipped the folder closed and followed.

 

******

 

A little over a week more and Peter stood outside the centre, leaning against his car, waiting.  The security door opened, and Neal stepped out, dressed in scruffy-looking jeans and an old t-shirt, a rough-looking coat over the outfit.  Around his neck was a simple buckled band of brown leather.  Despite his less than stellar wardrobe and the collar, he was grinning cheerfully at his ‘saviour’.

“Let’s see it,” Peter ordered.  Neal’s smile didn’t slip at all as he tugged at the left leg of his pants, revealing the black tracking anklet.

“You didn’t like the collar idea?” the omega queried.

“Hughes wouldn’t authorise the cost.  The marshals already have a supply of those,” the Alpha answered, nodding at the anklet.  “Besides, I don’t like the idea of something that unbreakable around your throat.”  The bright smile Neal gave him was faintly surprised, and definitely pleased.  Peter couldn’t help but smile just a little in return, even though he knew it would only encourage the conman.  As expected, the omega’s expression brightened further.

“You understand how this works?”  The agent queried.  Neal nodded.

“I’m being released into the service of the FBI, under your custody, with this thing chafing my leg, and this,” he tugged at the D-ring on the collar, “around my neck.”

“This is a trial.  You prove your worth, and we’ll see about making it long-term.  You try to run, or pull any tricks, or go chasing after Kate, and you’re back here for good, or until someone else takes pity on you,” the Alpha warned.  Neal’s smile finally faded then, and he nodded his understanding.

“Good.  Get in.”

 

******

 

Neal was sleeping when Peter pulled up to the omega hostel he had had Diana arrange housing in.  He had actually dozed off fairly early into the ride, apparently not nervous at all about being locked in the small space with a male Alpha, which only cemented Elle’s theory, as did his scent, the honeyed wine tone becoming stronger.  And, admittedly, Peter was probably the only one the conman had come across before who _hadn’t_ openly admitted to at least some interest.

He had thought about just taking the omega home, for about two seconds, before he decided he really didn’t want _that_ much Neal Caffrey in his life.  Besides which, an omega who lived that closely with an unrelated Alpha might be viewed as unavailable by other Alphas, even if he wasn’t Bonded, which Peter didn’t want, either.  The hostel would be safe enough for him, since they provided a Beta escort, if it was requested, and it was in a well-populated area, of course.  It was mostly inhabited by older emancipated omegas, or, occasionally, a side-omega or tolerant Alpha’s omega offspring, but a non-violent felon wouldn’t fit in too badly.

“A hostel, Peter?” Neal protested when Peter nudged him awake, giving his handler an unhappy look.

“Cowboy up, Neal, it’s all you’re going to get for the $700 the bureau has authorised.”  Omegas were rarely paid at the same wage scale as Betas or Alphas, and Peter had had to press for even this much.  He got out of the car, and led the way into the hostel, his CI reluctantly following behind.  Peter checked him in, then held up the debit card for the omega account Diana had also arranged for.

“There’s 100 on here for food and clothing and whatever.  If this continues, it’ll get upped to 300.”

“C’mon, Peter.  How am I supposed to manage on that?  A new wardrobe alone….”

“You like thrift stores, there’s one down the street.  If you wanted the high-life, you should have paired up with one of those rich Alphas they threw at you.”  The convict gave him a faintly disgusted look at that suggestion, and Peter resisted the urge to role his eyes.

“Hey, you find something better at the same price, take it,” the Alpha conceded, knowing full well that Neal wouldn’t stoop to being somebody’s sugar baby.  “Without conning anybody,” he added, “or bunking with old friends.  As a matter of fact, stay away from old friends entirely.”

“Peter, that’s not fair.”

“I can drive you back right now…”  Neal subsided sulkily, and Peter handed him his homework.  Honestly, he decided as he got back into his car, this was either going to be the best or the worst decision he had ever made.


	3. Chapter 3

Neal Caffrey had stooped to being somebody’s sugar baby.  Peter stared at the mansion in disbelief, before sighing and going up to the door and ringing the bell.  Apparently they would need to have the discussion about who Neal could associate with sooner, rather than later.  This was going to be a nightmare.

“Hello, I’m looking for Neal Caffrey?” he told the maid who opened the door.

“You must be Peter,” a voice interrupted, and Peter turned his head to see a gorgeous dark-skinned woman.  Low-level Alpha, he decided after a moment.  Maybe Neal had actually seen to finding his own partner after all.  A little faster than Peter would have expected, though, and a little old for him, but, all things considered…

“He’s upstairs,” she nodded toward them and then turned away.  The agent frowned at the staircase, but then started up.

Four floors later, he was debating on sending his new consultant back right then.  And when he found out the story…

“So, is this going to be going anywhere?” he asked June, once Neal was off getting changed.  The granddaughter was an omega as well, so Peter wasn’t too concerned there.  Neal might decide he’d take a liking to her, of course, but as long as he didn’t get her pregnant, or get in trouble with her guardian (June, he supposed), Peter didn’t care.  “Neal’s not a typical omega.  He’s a high-level.  High even for that rating.”

“So was Byron,” she answered, and Peter looked faintly surprised.  But she just smiled, then.  “But you don’t need to worry, Agent Burke,” she continued, with a trace of humour, “I have no immoral intentions towards your omega.”

“He’s not _my_ omega,” Peter quickly protested.  “He’s only under my guardianship.”  June raised a brow.

“That was what I meant, of course.”  And Peter blushed a little, before giving a wry laugh.

“My wife and her assistants have got me jumping at shadows, I’m afraid.  They’re all entirely convinced that he’s planned this whole thing to get into my bed.”  June just gave him a mysterious smile.

“I do hope you’re going to find him a nicer collar than that one, though.  If you’d like, I have some friends that could give you a discount.”  Peter shook his head.  He had already thought about that, actually.  The collar Neal wore (or was supposed to be wearing; he hadn’t failed to notice the lack of its presence around the omega’s neck) had been supplied by the centre, and Peter thought maybe they hadn’t picked the nicest one.  Even he wasn’t fashion-oblivious enough to not realise it looked awful.  He actually almost wondered if someone hadn’t deliberately ordered a dog collar.

“I already have that covered.  If this works out and he ends up staying around, I know where to get him something better.  But thank you for the offer.”  The woman nodded and stood, then.

“If you’d like, you could wait downstairs,” she offered.  “I, unfortunately, have an acquaintance dropping by soon, or I would happily continue our discussion.  Perhaps another time, though.  You have a nice day, Agent Burke.”  And then she gathered up her pug and headed back to whatever entrance she had used.

Peter finished his coffee, nodded goodbye to Cindy and headed downstairs through the apartment, only pausing to call out the location change to the conman.

 

******

 

Neal was feeling unusually good when he came down the stairs towards his handler, his mood barely dented by the scowl the other man wore.  The outfit he wore was a bit spoiled by the cheap collar, but with the top button of the shirt collar undone and opened slightly, it didn’t look too bad, he hoped.  He flipped his new hat onto his head, well aware that his display would have been considered an invitation by most Alphas.  Peter, though, was safe to show off to; if the Alpha was inclined to force him, Neal would never have been placed in the centre.  As he had expected, the dark warm scent, like freshly roasted coffee beans, with a surprisingly complimentary overlay of gun oil, didn’t take on the heavy musty tone most Alphas got when they looked at him.  The somewhat bitter note of irritation was a slight surprise, though.

“You look like a cartoon,” Peter huffed, and Neal’s mood faded slightly at the Alpha’s reprimand.

“This is a Devore,” he protested, even though he knew that probably wouldn’t matter to the agent, with his cheap Brooks Brothers suit.  “It’s classic ratpack.”

“Oh, sorry, _Dino,_ ” Peter snapped, and Neal busied himself with practicing tricks with the hat to hide how much the response stung.

“Stop playing with the hat.  C’mon, let’s go.”

“You’re upset,” Neal gave him an uncertain look, honestly worried now.  “What did I do?”  Peter pressed his lips together.

“For starters…” he began, and the omega gave him his best attentive look, hoping that would appease him some.

“ _This,_ ” the Alpha pointed up the stairs, “was not what I meant when I told you you should have chosen a rich Alpha.”  Neal’s gaze dropped instantly, and his mouth tightened.  Of course it would be something like that.  “I certainly didn’t mean an apartment with a 10 million dollar view and drinking espresso with a 22-year-old omega.”

“I can find out where June buys her coffee…” he offered, diplomatically.

“It’s not about the coffee.  I put you in the hostel so you _wouldn’t_ have an Alpha’s scent on you.  You do realise that she has no intention of Bonding with you.”

“I know that.”  Neal tried to look pitiable.  “That’s what makes her safe.”  It was a low blow, Neal knew that, and the way Peter’s mouth tightened said he knew it just as well.  But low was all Neal had, at the moment, unless he wanted to stoop to begging, which, in all honestly, wasn’t far off.  He really didn’t want to go back to the hostel.  It was cheap, small and depressing, only a step up from the centre in that it didn’t have guards forcing him to adhere to the rules and schedule, and, admittedly, he _didn’t_ feel safe there, although Mozzie probably could have fixed that rather quickly.  Omega hostels, like the centres, weren’t supposed to be nice, they were meant to encourage omegas to find themselves new Alphas.  The only people who stayed there long-term were the ones who weren’t desirable or well-connected enough to find somewhere better.

Peter really didn’t understand; Neal knew that.  He was too indoctrinated into the system to be all that comfortable with an omega who didn’t fit into it.  Neal supposed it was, honestly, a sign of how good a person the Alpha actually was that he tolerated his idiosyncrasies as well as he did.

It was a low blow, but it did seem to work.

“Get in the car.”  Neal jumped to obey.

 

******

 

There was an old saying, Peter reflected, that claimed a happy Alpha made a happy omega.  Of course, the obvious meaning was that an omega that kept his Alpha happy didn’t get beaten, but it had become a bit more romanticised over the years.  The reverse was also usually true, too, though, and Neal’s obvious joy at being out in public again was infectious, Peter’s lips quirking up slightly at the bright grin he was given when they got out of the car at the airport.  He paused, glancing at the light chain leash that lay on the back seat consideringly, but decided against it, after a moment.  The omega wasn’t a dog, and, until he gave the agent reason to, there was no need to treat him like one.

“You are to stay in my sight at all times,” he warned, though, as he ushered the omega through the front doors. 

“Where else would I go?” the other man asked, pouting faintly, following along obediently at his shoulder, the positioning perfect.  The centre had forced him to learn proper omega protocol, even if they had never actually managed to get him to follow it.  “I don’t have any ID except my sin card.”

“It’s real?”  It was a legitimate question, but Neal just huffed.

“Real enough.”  That, Peter reflected, wasn’t really the best answer he could have gotten, but it would do, for the moment.  So far, he still hadn’t managed to pin down a birth certificate or any other childhood documentation for him.

But, the lack of ID might actually turn out to be a problem if they did get separated, Peter reflected, since Neal wasn't properly tagged yet with Peter’s name and number.  He pulled a business card from his pocket, holding it out as they strode across the lobby.

“In case something does happen,” he said, giving Neal a pointed look.  The omega took the card, not even glancing at it before he slid it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Who is that?” he asked then, eyeing the dark-skinned woman coming toward them, and Peter smirked, not surprised at the omega’s obvious interest.

“That’s Diana, my probie.”

“Probie?” the omega queried, cuing up his most winning smile.

“Probationary agent.  She does everything I don’t.  She’s very good at her job,” Diana gave a small smile as she drew close enough to hear, “and she can do way better than you.”

“You must be Neal Caffrey,” the female Alpha commented.  “Nice hat.”  Neal’s grin could have outshone the sun.

“What’ve we got?” Peter interrupted.  It was really a pity Diana was gay, he reflected, because she, at least, was one Alpha Peter would have handed Neal off to in a heartbeat.  Diana wouldn’t have had any trouble at all keeping him in line.  And Neal obviously wouldn’t have minded.  As long as there wasn’t an active _dis_ like, an omega naturally became attached to whoever they Bonded with, so even if he didn’t actually ‘love’ his mate, he’d grow to within a year or two.

“You’re going to love this.”

 

******

 

Neal was feeling exhausted by the time Peter dropped him off that night, and the four flights of stairs weren’t really something he was looking forward to, but, tired as he was, he still had a criminal’s awareness of his surroundings, so the slight sound of someone moving didn’t escape his attention.  He could only blame a four-year separation on the fact that he didn’t immediately recognize the Beta.

“Mozzie,” he scolded.  He hadn’t expected him to arrive so fast, really; his partner must have been in the area already.  “How did you get in here?”  He immediately reached up to strip the much-hated collar off, rubbing at the sore spot on his neck; it had come with a small padlock, but that hadn’t been too hard to open.  If Peter had noticed his alteration, the agent hadn’t bothered to comment on it, or replace the security feature.  But then, he hadn’t even seemed to notice that it was missing that morning on the roof.

“The Suit actually makes you wear that?”

“Have you seen what _he_ wears?” Neal joked.  “Peter wouldn’t know taste if it came up and slapped him.”  He frowned at the strip of leather.  “Besides, it could be worse.  You don’t want to see the one they had me in at the Centre.”  He shuddered at the thought.  There would be no way to make anything look passably decent with that around his neck.  “The collar’s not the problem, anyway.”

“Can I see it?”  Neal casually set his leg up where the smaller man could see the tracker.  The omega already knew it was going to be a nuisance, but, hopefully, it would be as easily dealt with as the collar had been.

Mozzie shook his head, though.

“You flew too close to the sun, my friend.  They burned your wings.”  Not for the first time, the odd turns of phrase annoyed the omega.  He recognized the reference, though.  Icarus, who had flown too high and then fallen into the ocean when his wax wings had melted.

If Neal was Icarus, did that make Peter the sun?  He couldn’t imagine the agent ‘burning’ anyone, not unless they honestly deserved it.  But he _had_ forced Neal into the ‘sea’, the centre.

Well, no simile was entirely accurate, he supposed.

“We can worry about it later, I suppose.”  Neal stood.  Contact with Mozzie meant access to all his secret stashes and accounts again, finally, ones that were, very carefully, not associated with omega Neal Caffrey, and so hadn’t been confiscated.  And, most importantly, the Beta could get things he couldn’t.  Things like information, and, more importantly, medication.

“Did you get them?”

“Everything you asked for.”  Mozzie picked up the bag and set it on the table.  “Extra strength scent canceller, 5-hour suppressants, 24-hour suppressants, and your usual long-term ones, plus the sterilizers.  Mickey got shut down while you were in, but this new guy is supposed to be good.”

You’re sure?”  Neal glanced in the bag, drawing out a prescription bottle and checking the label.  “You remember what happened the last time we found someone who was _supposed_ to be good.  I’d rather not have another drugged-up conversation with Peter on illegal suppressants while I’m wearing his collar.”  The last time had been embarrassing enough.  He didn’t know what he had been thinking.  If Mozzie hadn’t come in at the last moment, he would have ended up in the centre a lot sooner, he was sure.  “I’d be back inside before I even came down.  Or worse.”

“What could be worse than being dropped in the centre?”

“Being dropped into an Alpha’s bed.  I guarantee Peter could find someone, if he put his mind to it.” 

“Yes, but Bonds aren’t water-tight.  You can break them.  If you even form one.  It’s not a sure thing.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the rumours.  You can’t form a Bond if the omega isn’t willing.  You really think that’s going to stop him from trying?  Throw one at me enough times, and _something_ is bound to happen.  And, if he was in a really bad mood, he might even have me cut, first.  Besides, it’s the _trying_ that I’d rather avoid.”

“Yes, right.  That homophobic thing you’ve got going on.”  Mozzie nodded knowingly.

“I am not homophobic.”  Neal considered, taking in his friend’s expression, and sighed.  “All right, in the _true_ meaning of the word, I suppose I am.  But not in the discriminatory sense.  I don’t care what other people do, as long as they don’t do it to me.”

“You know, Neal, eventually you’re going to have to come to terms with-”

“No.  Don’t.  Let’s just deal with this.”  The omega shook the bottle lightly.

“How do you plan on getting it past your new keeper?”

“Nice and slow.  Start with the spray.  I’m supposed to get legal inhibitors, if he decides to keep me out.  I drop in a couple of the short-term suppressants after a couple weeks, just now and then, and it’ll hopefully confuse him enough that he’ll think it’s just the combination.  Once he’s used to that, I can upgrade.”

“He’ll notice when you don’t go into Heat…”

“I’ll take a couple days off around that date.  Peter knows I’m touchy about it, he’ll stay away, hopefully.  Maybe I can get June to run interference.  At worst, I can refuse to let him in or something.”

“It’s risky, Neal.”

“It’s better than dealing with all these hormones and instincts.  Peter yells and I get the urge to kneel and show him my throat.”  The conman shuddered at the thought.  He had barely stopped himself from going to his knees in the security room at the airport, and the agent hadn’t even been yelling at him.

“I thought an Alpha’s Voice doesn’t work on you.”

“It doesn’t.  Peter doesn’t use his Voice.  He doesn’t have to.”  Neal shivered again, and decided to change the subject.

“Have you heard anything about Kate?”

 

******

 

“You must be Neal.”  The statement caught Neal a little off-guard, as Peter’s Beta wife surveyed him with a contemplative air.  He instinctively gave her a charming smile, though.

“And you must be Elizabeth.”  He tilted his head a bit, taking on a curious look.  “How did you know?”

“What other omega would be showing up at my husband’s door?”  She stepped back so that he could enter, closing the door behind him.

“I’m surprised you don’t have to beat them off.”  What he was _actually_ surprised about, really, was that she had known what he was.  He wasn’t wearing his collar, and, even if he hadn’t used Mozzie’s scent-spray, she was a Beta, so she couldn’t have smelled him.  Though, she did seem more scent-aware than most Betas, her perfume was light and soft enough that it didn’t irritate his nose like most of them did.

“Well, I’m sure _that_ isn’t why you’re here.”

“It’s not.  I found something, a signature.”

“On the bond?” the woman queried, waving him politely to the couch.  Neal sat, taking out the forged Victory Bond and a small magnifying glass, showing her the mark.

“Elle, I’ve got to go.  Neal…”  The omega looked up at Peter’s appearance, feeling a slight thrill of nervousness.  The Alpha’s gaze didn’t leave his at all as he reassured whoever was on the other end of the phone and continued down and into the living room.

“You activated your anklet,” he scolded.  “And where is your collar?”  Neal reached into the pocket of his jacket to pull the leather strip out, dropping it on the table carelessly, reaching to pet Satchmo.  Peter’s scent was tinted with irritation but the agent wasn’t yelling, thus far, at least.  And then, apparently, he pushed too far.

“I’m phoning the centre.  You’re going back.”  The nervousness flared into real fear.  Peter couldn’t send him back.  After even this small taste of real, permitted freedom, such as it was, he wouldn’t be able to handle the prison again.

“I know who the Dutchman is,” he blurted, desperate to make the man change his mind.

“Enlighten me.”  Relief flooded him as the Alpha sat beside him, looking over what he had found.  This close, the man’s scent flooded his nose, and he found himself breathing just a little deeper, to catch more of it.  If Peter noticed, he didn’t comment on it.

“Fine,” he said, finally, at the same time reaching to drop the collar in Neal’s lap pointedly.  “Meet me in the car.”

“Peter,” Elizabeth scolded, picking up the accessory, eyeing it distastefully.  “You couldn’t have found something nicer?”

“The centre gave it to him.  Omegas wear collars.  I’m supposed to be upholding the law, I can hardly let my CI run around breaking such an obvious one.”  He stood, and gave Neal a pointed look.  “I’d like to say goodbye to my wife now.”  Worried about testing him further, Neal reached for his jacket, taking the collar Peter held out pointedly in passing, and headed out to the car.

He was just buckling the hated collar when Peter came out to join him.  Without even bothering to ask, the Alpha reached over to lift the collar, brushing over that sore spot.  Neal startled, starting to pull away; he hated having other peoples’ hands at his neck.

“Stay still,” Peter ordered, and the conman obeyed, reluctantly.  “That’s from the other collar?”

“It’ll heal.”  It had the first time, after all.

“Not the way you keep fussing at it.”  And, okay, he _had_ been scratching at it a bit, absently; the dog collar seemed to sit right in the same spot.

Suddenly the collar tightened a bit and the omega tried to pull away again.

“Peter, don’t-”

“Neal,” the agent said warningly, and the conman subsided unhappily as Peter pulled the restraint in a hole and resettled it.

“It’s too tight,” he complained after, and the other man simply slipped two fingers in the space.

“It’s fine.”

“Peter…”

“No.”  Neal crossed his arms to resist the urge to tug at the accessory, scowling out the window instead.

Although, it did, at least, stop rubbing at the sore spot.

“And find a different scent-blocker.  That one makes my nose itch.”

 

******

 

The plan was genius.  An uncollared omega hanging around outside the warehouse was bound to draw attention.  He had used the scent-blocker liberally, of course, but he knew full well that that wasn’t going to hide what he was, which had been the point.  He was sure he could stall long enough for some sort of help to arrive, even if only by turning the men against each other.

One of the guys who dragged him in was an Alpha, but, as he had expected, most of the rest of the crew seemed to be Betas.  Though that didn’t stop the leering looks he got from them as he was pushed into the inner office.  Surprisingly, Hagen seemed to have a firm command structure going, all the better for his plan.

And, speaking of the Beta forger…  Neal quickly moved to lock the door, before the man had a chance to get in at him.

“Why’d you bring him inside?”

“He was hanging around outside.”  The Alpha guard answered.  “He’s an omega.”  The look the man gave Neal made it clear what he wanted to do with him.

**“Open the door.”**   The Alpha who had come with Hagen ordered, banging on the glass.  Neal simply grinned at him, glad, not for the first time, that hearing an Alpha’s Voice didn’t affect him that way.  It actually irritated him more than compelled, giving him the intense desire to deliberately rebel against whatever the command was.  It had to have been some side effect of the suppressant use, since he hadn’t been that way when he had first presented.  He really hoped it wouldn’t ever wear off, though.

“That sounds like inch thick lexan.”  And how thankful was he to whoever had decided to build a bulletproof office, for whatever odd reason.

“The keys are on the way.”  Hagen stated, calm and in control, seemingly unconcerned about his uninvited guest.  Neal just leaned back, feeling safe enough now to taunt a little.

“I think I’ll let the guys all have their fun with you once I drag you out of there.”  The Beta continued.  “I’m sure they’ll enjoy it.  I wonder if your Alpha friend will take you back then.”

“He will.”  Neal stated plainly, sure of that one thing.  And apparently it was a moot point, as the sirens of numerous police cars approached.

Neal quickly moved to unlock the door at Peter’s approach.  The agent’s expression was caught between satisfaction and disapproval, and the omega didn’t want to push him the wrong way.

“That was a dangerous stunt.”  He scolded, and Neal was worried for a moment, but then the Alpha smirked, slightly, and he grinned back at him.

“I knew you’d come.”  He answered, lighting the cigar he had pulled out of the desk drawer, and offering the agent one.

“You’re out without your collar again.”

“You should arrest me.”  He answered flippantly, sitting back and feeling rather proud of himself.  This solving crimes thing wasn’t so hard.

 

******

 

“Do I need to liquidate?”  Mozzie slipped out of his hiding place once he was sure Peter had disappeared, the morning after Hagen’s arrest, coming over to sit down at the table, glass of grape juice (because he really wasn’t an alcoholic, his love of wines aside) in hand.  Neal eyed the photo of Kate thoughtfully, considering, then turned his attention to the FBI badge and omega registration card Peter had left him.

_“You’ll be here when I get back?”_   He _could_ run.  But he’d hate to ruin Peter’s vacation, not to mention the fact that it would only land him back in the centre, permanently, when he was eventually caught.  Yes, here, he had the older man pulling sub-gender on him, but he had a wonderfully comfortable bed, nice clothes and a view that was to die for.  Except for the collar, and the radius, it was pretty good.  And both of those surpassed what he had dealt with for the last four years, anyway.

And solving the case had been fun.

“I think I’ll hang around a bit, enjoy the scenery.”  He answered.  “As long as Peter doesn’t start trying to force Alphas on me.”

“It’s probably better to wait until their suspicion of you eases some, anyway, even if the response time is horrible.”  The smaller man agreed knowingly.

“Well, that will only help us when I do run.”  When he had some _real_ clue as to where Kate was, preferably.

“So, is the new scent blocker acceptable?”

“Apparently it’s worse than the other one was.”

“Alphas are so picky…”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that a little bit has been added to the end of the last chapter. In retrospect, it seemed better to finish the episode recap there, rather than sticking it on the start of this chapter.
> 
> Didn't realize how long this bit was until I partitioned for the next chapter. Ah well. It sits properly.

“You’re late,” Diana announced as Neal stepped through the door into the office Monday morning.  The first day of the rest of his life, he reflected, giving her an apologetic smile.  Despite the statement, her smoky rose scent was relaxed.

“I mistimed the walk.”  It had been an honest mistake; he had been so busy over the last three days, checking on his resources, shopping for necessities, and just generally enjoying the restricted freedom, that he hadn’t thought to do a test-run on that.

“You walked that distance?  I’ll ask Jones to pick you up tomorrow.”

“It’s fine, really.”  She just gave him a look and Neal shrugged, not wanting to admit he was revelling in the unsupervised activity.  Although it probably wasn’t surprising that they were being cautious with him.  He _had_ triggered his anklet twice in less than a week.

“Drop off your stuff at your desk and let’s go.”

“Go?” he queried curiously.

“Down to evidence.  You’ve been a good boy; the Boss decided you can have a treat.”  Her tone was teasing, and Neal considered protesting that he wasn’t a dog, but the idea of getting to poke around the evidence locker, even if he probably wouldn’t like his ‘treat’ in the end, roused his curiosity.  He neatly settled his jacket over the back of his chair and dropped the hat over the bust of Socrates he had been given by Agent Darby when she had transferred to missing persons that past week, (Peter had accusing him of wheedling it off her, but he hadn’t made him give it back,) and followed after the high-level Alpha.

He liked the woman, the omega decided.  Yes, so far she was all Alpha, bossy and arrogant, and she scared him just a little, but she didn’t look at him the way some of the other Alphas in the building were, like they wanted to throw him down and have at him right there, and were considering whether the dog collar that silently declared him protected was really enough of a discouragement.  So far, at least, ‘The Wrath of Peter’, and the fact that he had spent most of his first week with his handler, had restricted the harassment to only looks and thinly veiled innuendos.

Instead of pressing the button for the sub-basement, where the evidence locker was located, Diana hit the button for the Violent Crimes floor.  Neal gave her a curious look, but decided not to comment on it.

Someone on the Organized Crime floor, just two below White Collar, had apparently called the elevator, since it stopped there.  When the door opened, Agent Ruiz stood looking through a folder.  He snapped it shut as soon as he saw them.

“Berrigan,” he greeted coolly.  “Taking the puppy for a walk?”  Neal’s eyes narrowed, but he stayed silent.  Mouthing off to the offensive man, as he had at their first meeting down in the lobby mid-week, wasn’t worth the trouble he’d get into, and might lose him his ‘treat’ besides.  Ruiz was a Beta, but he seemed to be insulted that he wasn’t born an Alpha.  Neal had instantly pegged him as a bully, pushing around anyone he thought he could, though he had backed down quickly enough when a real Alpha entered the picture.

“Agent Ruiz.” Diana greeted, and Neal could hear the false friendliness in her tone.  “I’m sure you remember what happened the last time you decided to use a dog reference in my presence?”  The other agent eyed her uncertainly.

“I’ll take the stairs,” he decided after a moment.

“Good idea.  You could use the exercise.”  And the dark-skinned woman reached past Neal for the button to close the doors.  The omega gave her a look out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she commented.  “You’re _our_ puppy.  When we do it, we’re being playful, when he does it, he’s being insulting.  Besides, someone needs to put that trumped up Beta in his place or he starts thinking he runs things.”  Neal grinned cheerfully at her.  That, right there, was especially why he liked Diana.

There were no more interruptions, and the door opened on the proper floor a moment later.

“Why are we here?” Neal asked, as he followed Diana off, looking around the floor curiously.  The floorplan was the same, although the desks and shelves were in different places.  He looked up to where Peter’s office would have been, finding a European woman sitting behind the desk, its arrangement and location slightly different.

“Stay here.” Diana ordered, ignoring his question and heading up to the walkway.  Neal stuck his hands in his pockets, looking around casually.  A dark-haired female Beta sitting at a desk nearby eyed him curiously and he smiled back at her.  She beckoned for him to come over, one fingered, not two, and he cast a glance up at Diana, who seemed busy talking to the woman in the office, this floor’s SSA, he assumed, then strolled over to lean against the desk.

“You’re the one from White Collar, aren’t you?  Burke’s omega.”

“I’m Neal Caffrey,” he answered, not being terribly fond of that particular appellation.  The woman smiled.

“I’ve heard he had quite the time catching you.”  The woman gave him a rather obvious surveying.  “I can see why he was so determined.”  Neal blinked, then his grin faded a bit.

“Oh, no.  We’re…  I don’t swing that way,” he informed her.

“You’re an omega.”  She sat back and gave him a knowing look.  “We both know if your Alpha says you swing that way, then you don’t have a choice in the matter.”  He was reasonably sure she wasn’t intending to be cruel; it _was_ the way things usually were with omegas.

“Not Peter.  He’d never do that.  In fact,” he leaned a little closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial level, “if I were to tell him I was going to go out with a gorgeous Beta, he’s probably just tell me not to pick her pocket.”

The Beta smiled up at him, her chocolate-brown eyes deep enough to drown in.  “You wouldn’t steal from me, would you?” she asked.

“I might steal your phone, to add my number.”  And he held the purloined item up for inspection.  The woman blushed faintly.  Neal checked the phone, finding it unlocked, surprisingly, and quickly added his name and number to the contacts list.  She wasn’t Kate, of course, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have some fun.  With Peter holding his leash, it wouldn’t have gone anywhere anyway.

“Steph.”  The Beta turned her head at hearing her name called, and Neal looked up as well.  The SSA stood at the top of the stairs with Diana.  “Did you finish compiling that list?”

“Right here, Cap.”  Stephanie held up a clipboard with a few sheets of printed paper on it. 

“Good, go down to the evidence room and show Agent Berrigan what she can choose from.”

“No problem.” the junior agent agreed, standing, retrieving her phone and smiling to Neal.  “I’m certain there’s something nicer-looking than that down there.”  He gave her a curious look, about to ask what _that_ was, but Diana reached them then, giving him a push back towards the elevator. 

“Come on, Romeo.”

“What is this treat?” he asked, obediently heading in the indicated direction.  Diana just smirked at him. 

“You’ll see.”

“Oh, it’s a surprise,” the other agent realised, following after them, looking chagrined.  “And I almost…  Sorry.”

“Not like he’s not going to find out soon enough,” Diana answered, brushing it off.  Neal gave her a sulky look, which she simply ignored, unsurprisingly.

 

******

 

The ride down to the storage locker was uneventful, and they were soon signed in by the guard.

“Violent Crimes,” Neal mused, lifting the lid off a box to peek inside.  “This treat isn’t going to have blood all over it or something, is it?”

“It’s possible, I suppose,” Stephanie answered, consulting her list, not seeing the faintly sickened look that crossed Neal’s features.  “We handle a lot of the omega problems, since they’re almost always about violence of some sort.  Civil Rights does too, but since we have so much crossover on those cases, we share the file information.”  She opened another box and glanced at him thoughtfully.  “Leather?” she asked Diana then.  The darker woman considered, then shook her head.

“Not the boss’s style, and it’ll be harder to keep clean.”

“What about my style?” Neal asked.

“Keep complaining and I might change my mind.”  The omega shrugged.  Honestly, leather wasn’t really his thing, either.  He preferred silk.

“All right, there’s a couple silver ones on the auction docket.  Oh, this whole lot’s available.”  She handed Diana the clipboard and reached up on tiptoes to get down a heavy-seeming box from one of the higher shelves.  “That box there, too, but we can look through this one first.”  She took the box over to the table and started pulling the evidence bags out of it.  Neal managed to peak over the slightly shorter woman’s shoulder and finally see what they were talking about.

“Collars?”  He frowned, unsure how he felt about it.  Any collar would be better than the one he wore, but it _would_ still be a collar, after all.

Stephanie lifted one up to eye it thoughtfully.  It would have been a nice-looking item, a silver extension band faced with highly polished square pieces of ebony.  A dark stain marred some of the links, though, and Neal resisted the urge to shudder.

“Not that one.”

“He’s a bit squeamish,” Diana explained, and Stephanie nodded.

“Not unusual for omegas.  At least he’s not passing out.”

“I’m not squeamish,” the conman protested.  Blood, in and of itself, didn’t bother him.  It was the thought of having something with somebody else’s _dried_ blood on it around his neck, even if it had been cleaned off.

“Probably don’t want something too fancy, anyway, if he’s going to be out on the street.  These are more for a show-omega,” Stephanie commented, setting a few bejewelled collars aside.  “I doubt Agent Burke would like to end up with a dead pet over a fancy necklace.”

“I wouldn’t like it either,” Neal agreed.  “And can we stop talking about me like I’m not here?”

“Sorry,” the Beta apologized.  “It’s a bad habit.  Most of the omegas we deal with are…”  She frowned, considering the right description.

“Better trained?” Neal supplied with an irritated tone.  “More obedient, submissive, calmer, compliant?”  All things he had been scolded over for not being, at the centre. 

“Less headstrong,” Diana put in.

“Traumatised…” Stephanie finished finally, giving him a knowing look.  “Though I suppose all of those could apply as well.”

“And that would _definitely_ not be the boss’s type.”  The Alpha held up a bag with some silver chains in it.  “Let’s try this one.”  She pulled out a pocketknife, flicking it open and neatly slicing the top of the bag, pulling the collar out.

“Might be a bit delicate,” the other agent commented, as Diana held it up.  The collar was two thin pairs of chains, the second longer so that they looped lower, both connecting to an O ring in the front, with a lockable ring and hook clasp at the back.  The hinged hook looped through the ring from back to front, and then snapped down into the setting, which had a horizontal d-ring that poked out from between the two bars of the hook when it was closed, to allow a small padlock to be attached, if desired.  It was a pretty common clasp for omega collars.

“I guess it’s nice.”  Neal frowned doubtfully.

“Take that off,” Diana ordered, nodding to his own collar.  He was quick to obey, dropping the thing carelessly on the table, and the agent stepped forward to hold the item up around his throat.

“You’re probably right,” she admitted to Stephanie.  “I like the style, though.”  She pulled it up close, fiddling with the collar of his dress shirt a bit, and Neal forced his hands to stay in his pockets, resisting the urge to pull away.

The shirt pulled up close to his neck, and Diana stepped to the side then, looking to Stephanie for her opinion.  She nodded after a moment.

“Definitely need heavier chains, but it does look nice.  Sort of professional, too.”

“I should have brought a mirror,” the omega commented aloud.

“You don’t trust us?” Stephanie teased.

“Well, I am going to have to wear it for the foreseeable future.”

“Anything we put on you still needs the Boss’s okay, anyway,” Diana pointed out.

“Peter won’t care what you pick, as long as it works.  He didn’t seem to care much about that one.”  Neal nodded at the dog collar.

“Actually, it was Peter that told me to look into these, after you figured out the connection to the Bond.”  Neal was surprised by that admission, since it wasn’t until the next day, during his impromptu visit to the Burke household, that Elizabeth had commented on the ill-chosen accessory.  “There is a reason it’s me down here, though, and not him.”

“Besides the fact that he’s not due back for another week?”

“Oh, this one looks good.”  The collar Stephanie pulled out was in roughly the same style.  It was silver as well, the base chain made of heavier, twisted links, with a smaller ring in the middle, meant to hold the short chain, just three links, that connected to the oval mother-of-pearl charm engraved with a cursive letter ‘F’ in black lacquer.  The looped chains were thicker, as well, the loops not quite as long.  Two other small rings were set off to the sides of the middle one on the base chain, though, a third chain falling between the two to lay in a longer loop below the middle ring.  It had a small ring on it as well, that was connected to the bottom of the pendant’s setting.  “You could replace the pendant with a proper tag.”

“I don’t like it,” Neal announced quickly.  The rings on the front of the collar might have held a fine clip and leash, one that was more decorative than functional, but the real leash attachment spot was at the back.  The ring and hook clasp was set off to the side a bit, at the right edge of a partial choker chain that looped through the joint rings on both sides.

“We could get a jeweller to run the chain straight between the two joint rings,” Stephanie suggested.  Diana smirked, a hint of cruelty in it, and Neal remembered why he _didn’t_ like her.

“I think it’s perfect,” she answered, reaching to take the collar.  Neal took a step back, though, when she moved towards him.  The Alpha just stopped, giving him a warning look.

“Get over here, Caffrey.”

“Peter isn’t going to like something that could choke me.”  Actually, he was guessing, there.  For all he knew, his handler could love the idea of being able to jerk him around like that.  He’d probably be quite willing to use it, for instance, had he known that the omega had taken the opportunity to try out the 24 hour suppressants Mozzie had gotten him, and, actually, hadn’t worn the collar on any of his jaunts out over the weekend.

“It’s a safety choker.  It only closes so far,” Diana snapped.

“Too far.”

**“Now, Caffrey.”**   The woman dropped her tone into the Voice range, and Neal shifted uncomfortably.  The slight movement, though, was taken as recognition of the command, since the continuation was back to a normal pitch.  “Or I’ll find you a real choker.”  She would, too, the CI thought to himself, reluctantly stepping forward, holding himself stiffly while she flipped up the collar of the dress shirt and closed the choker around his neck.  Neal knew it was probably just his imagination, but the jewellery seemed too tight already.

“It is a bit short,” Diana admitted, tugging on the choker, tightening the collar.  Stephanie moved around to look as well, and the omega tried to ignore the instincts that declared their aversion to having both of them behind him with a potentially dangerous chain around his throat.  His control was still excellent, his breathing only quickened a little, though he knew full well that Diana could sense his anxiety.

“You could have links added to the base chain,” Stephanie replied.  She looked through the list again, and checked the bag number.

“Apparently it’s one of a pair.  One is a bit longer than the other.”  She rifled through the box, then set the clipboard down and went to fetch another one, opening that as well.  “Here it is.”

The other collar was identical, except that the stone in it was onyx, and unmarked, instead of the mother-of-pearl.  Neal glanced towards the entrance to the cage, but even if he could have made it there, it was locked, and where did he expect to go after that, anyway?  He’d just get dragged back, and then get in trouble later from Peter for trying to run.

The collars were switched, and while the dark-stoned one _was_ longer, the conman was still far from impressed, drawing his breath in instinctively when Diana pulled it tight.

“How is it?” Stephanie asked.

“Well, if the creampuff would stop freaking out.”  She jabbed him in the ribs and Neal let out the breath, twisting his head to glare back at her.

“I am not freaking out.”  The choker pulled tighter and Neal balled his hands into fists in his pockets to keep from reaching up to jerk at it.  “I’d like to see you running around in one of these,” he finished in a faintly breathless voice.

“Women and other omegas do it all the time,” Diana pointed out.  “And you just spit out that whole sentence with it as tight as it goes.  It’s fine.”  She released the choker and Neal reached up to jerk it down in the front.

He sulked all the way back up, which was only made worse by the fact that Diana was amused by his attitude, and was fully willing to tell anyone who asked exactly _why_ he didn’t like his new collar; the VC SSA when she went back to sign the acquisition forms, the new male Alpha probie from Cyber Crimes who shared the elevator between Violent Crimes and White Collar, and Jones and Blake, when they asked about it.  By the end of the day, everyone on the White Collar floor, at least, knew about it, and he suffered through more than a few playful jerks on the clip ring before he managed to retreat to Peter’s office.  Diana finally decided to take pity on him, it seemed, since she only entered the room to drop a pile of cold cases on the table and warn him not to touch anything.  As if he would.  Peter’s drawers were locked anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this ( http://www.fashionrolla.com/2013/11/diy-chain-necklace-collar.html/#more ) is a general idea of what Neal's new collar looks like. (as close as I could find.) It's not exact, his is a little heavier, with an actual jump ring in the middle that the chains and charm are attached to and with the extra chain that loops under the charm (and of course, the choke chain back, which is the same basic setup as the chain on a dog's safety choker). This would be closer to the first, rejected one. 
> 
> Technically, it's actually looser than he would wear a tie in the show, it's more that he doesn't like the idea than that it's too tight.


	5. Chapter 5

It was early Thursday afternoon when it happened.  Neal was just sitting in the conference room, with a bunch of paperwork Diana had given to him to do.  He had been spending more time goofing off than working, though, playing with the rubber band ball he had taken off the female agent’s desk earlier that day, until she had come in and taken it away from him.  Now he was fiddling with the pen, doodling on an empty notepad.  He couldn’t seem to settle down at all today; even having been up an hour earlier than he usually rose that morning.

“Haven’t you got those finished yet?” Diana stepped into the room, all irritated Alpha, and Neal looked up guiltily from a caricature of Peter looking all FBI and waving a fist in the air in traditional thwarted evil villain style, then froze as a rush of warmth went through his system.

“Get out,” he hissed, pushing the chair back, recognizing the symptoms now.  The centre hadn’t believed in using inhibitors, feeling that it was healthier for an omega to go through their Heats unhindered.  But this one was too early.

“What?  Caffrey, you…”  She took a step forward as she spoke, and then paused, frowning.  “Your scent’s changed…”

“I need to go home, now.”  He started to stand, his breath catching as he realised the gauntlet he was going to have to run.  The bull-pen wouldn’t be too bad, there was only one Alpha in at the moment, other than Diana, but the elevator ride down, and then getting home….  He’d need a Beta cab driver.

“Sit.”

“I need to go.  I need….  Peter…”  He shook his head; no, Peter was the last person he needed around right now.

**“Sit down.”**   Neal snarled at the full Voice command, the tone only making him more jumpy and contrary.

“Neal!”  The use of his first name startled him a bit, and Diana started around the table.  Neal moved as well, though, never taking his eyes off the threat.  The woman gave him an irritated look.

“Would you relax?  You’re still in pre-Heat.”

“My pre-Heats only last a couple hours.”  Three or four, maybe, and pre-Heat could be just as loud a siren’s call as the real thing.  It had been in London.

Hands gripped his arms suddenly from behind, and Neal jumped, trying to jerk free instinctively.

“Let go.”

“Easy, Caffrey,” Jones soothed, holding him securely.  Neal pressed back against the Beta as Diana came around the table, then suddenly jerked away.  The man lost his hold partially, and the omega thought he had succeeded, but then strong fingers dug into the nerves at the back of his neck, harshly enough to cause a yelp of pain before he went boneless under the grip.  Jones loosened his hold slightly, but didn’t let go, settling the paralysed CI into a chair Diana held out.  Neal watched her with an equal mix of anger and fear, his eyes about the only thing he could still control.

The conman _hated_ being Settled, even more so since he was especially slow to recover.  The reaction was thought to be an evolutionary creation, meant to keep an unwilling or frightened omega from getting himself, or herself, hurt when being bred.  As far as Neal was concerned, it was just another example of how biology was out to make an omega’s life as difficult as possible.  Not only did the hold render the recipient defenceless, but it could also cause serious pain, if the nerves were gripped too tightly, made all the worse because the omega could do nothing about it, not even able to cringe in response.  He had visited places where omegas wore extra-wide collars, covering the entire length of their necks, just to keep any prowling Alphas or omega-traders from using the trait against them.  He hated the way they looked, but he could understand why one would want to wear them, right now.  His collar was pretty, but it gave him no real protection.

“Are you done now?” Diana asked, obviously annoyed, as if he had simply decided to throw a temper tantrum or something.  Neal stayed silent; Settling mostly inhibited his ability to speak, as well, and the best he would have managed would have been a growl or whine.

“As I was saying, you’re still in pre-Heat.  That is plenty of time to get you home safely.  Alpha agents are _trained_ , Caffrey.  We’re not going to lose our common sense just because somebody goes past who smells nice.”  Neal knew that.  Logically, he knew he was even safer in this room than he would have been at the Centre, as safe as he would have been at Peter’s ho…  _Peter, again!_

“Alphas have to be able to ignore an omega in an induced Heat,” Jones added, letting him go, just resting a hand lightly on his shoulder.  Induced Heats were supposed to be far more intense than natural ones.  Porn omegas were usually induced, which probably explained some of the misinformation about Heats.  “Imagine if the Violent Crimes boys lost their head over one in the middle of a crime scene, or Organized Crime.”  Neal strained against the paralysis, managing to twitch his fingers.  Diana just shook her head.

“I’ll take him home,” she said.  “It wasn’t like he was getting anything done here anyway.”  Neal managed a shudder.  He had no desire to be in such an enclosed space with the Alpha, trained or not.

“Better leash him, then,” the Beta suggested.  “He’s liable to try to pull a runner on you, otherwise, and then we’d have to call Peter back from his vacation to catch him.”  The last was said with a joking tone, but Neal knew he was at least partially serious about it.

Both the agents left, Jones heading back to his desk and Diana going to get the black woven leash Peter kept in his office.  It was a legal necessity, but the agent hadn’t actually had any reason to use it, thus far.

The omega continued to struggle for movement, but he was just managing to stand, using the table, when Diana returned.  She had gone to her desk as well, retrieving her jacket and a briefcase of papers.

“Jones really hit you hard.  I expected you to be up by now.”  She caught the ring on the back of his collar even as he tried to pull away, quickly clipping the leash to it.  The conman reached up to try and pull it free, but his fingers weren’t working quite right.  His hand was pulled away before he could manage to make them cooperate.

“Do I have to cuff you, too?”

“Can get home myself,” he rasped, as she pulled him upright.

“And I can get you home faster and easier.”  The agent countered, pushing him toward the door.  Neal balked.

“Take the leash off, at least.  I won’t run.”

“And I won’t be jumping my girlfriend as soon as she gets in the door tonight, either.  Move, Caffrey, or I’ll drag you.”  Reluctantly, keeping his eyes down and feeling more humiliated than he had his first year at the centre, (before he had learned how to toe the line enough to avoid the public spankings,) the CI preceded his captor out the door.

 

******

 

An uncomfortable car-ride later, punctuated by a stop at a grocery store to grab a few cases of chocolate Ocerna, the meal replacement favoured for in-Heat omegas, and some energy bars, and Neal was finally able to retreat to the safety of his apartment.  Only to have Diana follow him, ignoring his snarled order to leave.  Instead, she came right in, looking around the room curiously.

“Nice place,” she commented, taking the Ocerna to the fridge, while Neal glared at her from the dubious safety of the other side of the kitchen table.

“Get out,” he growled, again.

“Don’t be rude.  I’m not leaving until I make sure you’re not going to get Heat-crazed, after your little panic attack.”  Heat-craziness was rare, but it did happen, especially when an omega was alone in a new place.  The urge to find somewhere, or someone, safe was so strong that they could sometimes panic and run.

“Believe me, I have no intention of leaving my apartment to go wandering about.  I’ve seen what happens.”  It wasn’t quite the same; he hadn’t wanted to go out during his pre-Heat all those years ago, but he hadn’t had a choice, then.  He had no intention of stepping foot outside that door, this time, and even the rooftop was debateable.

Ignoring his continued hostility, Diana moved to sit down at the table, opening her briefcase and pulling out the file she had been working on before.  Deciding to ignore her, Neal went to his bedroom to sulk there.

That lasted for only half an hour, before he was wandering around the room, looking for something to do.  Finally he ventured back out into the main room, where the Alpha was still working on her paperwork.

“Just leave,” the omega snapped, irritated by her continued presence.  This was supposed to be his safe place, his alone, and now all he could smell was her scent, calling and repelling him at the same time.

“Why don’t you come sit down?  We can play cards or something.”  Neal frowned, considering.

“What are we playing for?” he asked suspiciously.  Diana shrugged.

“Paperwork, loose change, clothing.  Whatever you like.”

The conman considered.  The idea of beating the agent was enticing.  Giving in, he fetched a deck of cards and sat down.

Three hours later, after a number of rounds, he owed Diana four reports, three coffees, and one hour of silence, to be called in at a time of her choosing.  Although, she owed him three late passes, two afternoons out of his radius (supervised, but with his choice of location), and one lunch (to be kept to a reasonable amount).

Considering it was far more difficult to bluff when your attention was all over the place, he thought that wasn’t too bad.

She had also managed to get him to down two of the small bottles of Ocerna, ignoring the comments he made (over-sweet glorified milkshake), and one of the protein bars (boiled cardboard).

Her presence was getting more troublesome as he moved into his true Heat, though.  Gay or not, she was responding to his scent, and her arousal was affecting him, too.  When he found himself staring as she breathed, mid-hand, he knew she had been there far too long.

He jerked his eyes up, to find her watching with a faintly indulgent expression, and gave her an apologetic grin.  The agent started to stand, and Neal pulled back a bit, the apologetic look turning defensive. He might have been staring, but he had no intention of following that up.

“Relax.  I’m calling it a night.  You are to stay here.”

“Wasn’t planning on going anywhere, really.”  It would take a fire, or something equally devastating, to get him out of the apartment.

“Right.  If you need anything, you have my number, and Jones’.  I’ll give your landlady a warning on the way out, and Peter will be in to check up on you when he gets back on Sunday.”

“He doesn’t need to.  I’ll be fine.”

“Goodnight, Neal.”

The omega was at the door as soon as she closed it, turning the lock, finally starting to feel secure, although the apartment was still tainted by Alpha pheromones.

By midnight he had cleaned every trace of Diana's scent from the apartment, and could finally fall into bed for the couple hours of sleep he would get before his Heat dragged him back up again.

Damned biology…

 

******

 

“Neal?”  Peter knocked at the door cautiously, frowning when he didn’t get an answer.  After a moment, he tried the knob, finding it locked.  Sighing, he pulled out the new keys he had just gotten from June, front door, back door, and Neal’s apartment door.  It had been a requirement of their agreement that Peter had a key to the conman’s residence, but the omega hadn’t gotten to providing him with one yet, so he had gone to the source.  It was just a good thing that his CI hadn’t changed the locks.

He opened the door, steeling himself for the omega pheromones, and glanced around the room.  The apartment seemed empty, the glass doors wide open despite the cool weather.  Smart, that.  Omega pheromones could, if they built up enough, create a feedback loop, intensifying the symptoms.  The easiest way, though not a sure-fire one, to make an omega go into Heat without Inducing was to put him or her with a couple other in-Heat omegas.  It was a trick occasionally used, he knew, to help regulate erratic cycles.

Peter stepped further into the space and caught the sound of the shower running.  Neal was washing up, obviously.

An omega’s Heat wasn’t what they made it look like in traditional porn, he knew, a sweaty needy creature stretched out on a bed with one hand on his cock and the other up his ass, begging for an Alpha to relieve him.  While there was certainly a good amount of arousal, of course, it wasn’t nearly that overpowering, more like a large dose of Viagra along with a bottle or two of strong alcohol, without the interactions.  And while Peter himself was feeling a powerful urge to toss the other man down and show him who was the boss, that was more a dominance thing (which Neal had generally provoked on a regular basis when they were playing their game of cat-and-mouse, anyway), and certainly not the mindless, sex-crazed beast the videos would have you believe.

Most Heats actually revealed themselves in a flurry of extra energy, which was, of course, meant to be put towards sex.  In the lack of that, though, any short-term activity would do, so long as it didn’t take too much thought; an omega’s attention-span and intellect (such as it may be) were among the real casualties.  The room now showed the result of Neal’s coping strategies; the place was recently cleaned, probably not for the first time, the floor still wet in spots.  A painting in the beginning stages sat on an easel, another two, little more than sketches, leaning up against the small table nearby, where a discarded pallet was tossed carelessly, along with a couple uncapped tubes of paint. A flurry of papers, sketches of whatever had caught his attention at that particular moment, was spread across the kitchen table, with a few fallen to the floor.  Some sort of show was playing on the TV, and a rules and regulations book that looked suspiciously like the one from Peter’s office lay haphazardly on the couch in front of it.

The Alpha set the two six-packs of Ocerna he had brought with him down on the kitchen table, walking over to recap the paints carefully, then moved to turn off the TV, pick the book up, (yes, his, apparently Neal had ‘borrowed’ it at some point,) and finally gathered the fallen drawings, pausing to study a couple of them.  A fair number of them were of items in the apartment, but intermixed were pictures of him and the other agents, Elizabeth, Satchmo, Kate, and some little bald fellow.

An irritated hiss drew his attention, and Peter lifted his head, realising the shower had stopped.  Neal stood in the doorway, glaring at him, a loose pair of sweatpants hanging off his hips.  The Alpha could just see the tracker peeking out from under the pants.

“Settle down,” the older man said, carefully ignoring his own urge to respond to the antagonistic stance, straightening the papers.  Though he knew the omega was more hostile when his hormones were up, it was generally still defensive.  Nothing would come of it unless Peter started it.  “I just came up to check on you.  I brought you those to help keep your energy up.”  He nodded toward the meal replacements.

“I’m not hungry,” Neal answered belligerently.

“Really.  When was the last time you ate?  I know Diana left a few packs with you, but those shouldn’t have lasted you the weekend and June says you chased off her housekeeper.”  An omega in Heat generally needed twice the normal caloric intake, at least, and they weren’t usually inclined to take the time to prepare proper meals.  Heat seemed to suppress the appetite slightly too, possibly to lessen the affect digestion had on the other functions.

Peter did meet the blue eyes, now, letting some of his authority show, just a touch.  Neal returned the stare viciously, and the agent was just wondering if he’d have to press the issue physically, when the other finally looked away.

“You couldn’t have picked anything more interesting?” the CI complained, eyeing the drinks.

“Sorry, they were all out of sashimi-flavoured,” his handler answered dryly.  Neal gave him a faintly disgusted look.

“You left shoeprints on my floor,” he protested petulantly.  Peter eyed his consultant thoughtfully.  Neal was thin to begin with, but now there was a faint gauntness to him.  His features were more pale than normal as well, and his eyes were marred by the effects of not getting enough sleep.  The omega’s Heats always had been hard on him, and this one was early.  He’d had only two weeks to accustom himself to the apartment, as well, which meant he hadn’t had the time to nest properly, and it probably didn’t feel as safe as he really needed.  Peter supposed he didn’t look as bad as he might have, but he’d have to keep a close eye on him. 

He must have been in one of the Heat’s down-swings, since he seemed fairly normal, short of his slight attitude and an apparent inability to sit still.  Well, all right, that last was normal too, Peter supposed.  This close he could clearly smell the Heat pheromones, but they were muted, at the moment.  Definitely a down-swing.  Good timing, on Peter’s part, since it meant the conman was rational.

“You’ll just wash it again anyway,” the Alpha answered, glancing at the surface in question.  “You’ve got,” he paused to consider, “two days yet?” Including the time he would need to sleep and recover, that should be about right.  “Where’s your collar?”  The query was tossed out casually.  Diana had had that sadistic glint in her eyes when she had told Peter the reason Neal wasn’t impressed with his new jewellery, though she had promised it was safe.  Peter did trust his now-former probie, her year-long tenure having ended just that week, but wanted to make sure of it himself.

“I took it off to shower.”  The blue eyes flicked to the side just the slightest bit, and Peter glanced over, noting the pile of precious metal that sat on the counter.

“Thursday night?” he guessed, and was rewarded by a slight tightening of the conman’s lips.  “Put it back on, I want to see it.”

“Peter, I-”

“Now, Neal.”  The omega glared at his handler a long moment, before growling angrily and going over to the counter, hesitating over the item.  Peter took pity on him after a moment, going over to pick it up, ignoring the way Neal tensed up at the close proximity, giving it a quick shake to straighten the chains, and then moving behind to close it around the younger man’s neck.  Then, looping the ring finger of his right hand through the clip ring, he rested his left at the small of Neal’s back.  As he had expected, the other man jerked away suddenly, the chain pulling tight.

“Let go,” the omega hissed, reaching back to try to tug the chain out of his hand.  Peter closed his fist over the length, holding it tight.  The con gave up after a moment, letting his hand rest over the other’s, glaring over his shoulder at him.  After a few moments, the fury in the blue eyes took on a faintly worried tone.

“Peter?”  Neal’s voice was strained, and his lips stayed parted after, to try to draw in more air.

“Calm down.”  The agent held the chain tight a moment more, before releasing it finally.  Neal immediately pulled it loose again.  “If I can do that, someone else can, too, and I wanted to be absolutely sure myself that it wouldn’t end up hurting you.”

“Stephanie had a better idea.”  The shorter man turned to face him again, pupils a bit wide as he drew in a breath, then took a few steps back.  Peter didn’t protest it, he could smell the omega’s scent starting to strengthen again.  At least he wasn’t trying to hide it with that irritating scent-blocker.  He didn’t like them anyway, distrusting what the user was trying to hide, but Neal’s, on top of muffling the sweet tones of his scent, had an acrid tang to it.

“Stephanie?” he queried, instead.

“The Violent Crimes agent.  She suggested having a jeweller cut the chain and run it straight.”  Peter barely considered it.

“It’s fine as it is.”  He reached out, just to straighten the charm, and Neal stepped back again.  The Alpha frowned, well aware that, given the chance, it would spend more time on the counter than around the man’s neck

“Take it off again, and I’ll put a lock on it.”  He had been willing to let the other one slip, because it _had_ been rather unsightly and uncomfortable-looking, but there was no reason for him not to wear this one.

“That’s supposed to stop me?”  Peter just gave him a warning look, and Neal let it drop, going over to sit in one of the kitchen chairs, eyeing the small bottles on the table, pulling one out of its ring finally.

“Wildberry?” he queried.

“It’s supposed to be popular, according to the pharmacist.  Now, drink up.  I want to see you finish two of those before I go.”

“It’s Monday…” the omega said suddenly with a frown, half-rising.  “Isn’t it Monday?  I have to get ready…”

“No,” Peter interrupted, rolling his eyes.  “It’s Sunday.  Afternoon.  You wouldn’t be going into the office anyway.  Your scent would have me and the other Alphas on our floor at each other’s throats before the day was through, if you didn’t trigger somebody yourself with your attitude.”

“Well, I _was_ supposed to have inhibitors,” Neal snapped, dropping back down.

“You weren’t supposed to go into Heat for another month yet.”  Peter growled back, beginning to lose his control.  “You had an appointment tomorrow, in fact, which Diana had to phone and reschedule for next week.”

“Well, it’s not my fault,” Neal stormed furiously, apparently completely ignoring, or forgetting, the fact that for the last three and a half years, his heats had been clockwork, every 92 days on the dot.  “These damned hormones.  I want my suppressants back.”

“If I so much as hear a _rumour_ of you being back on suppressants, I will drop you back in the centre and let them do what they want.” 

Neal paled at the threat, the fury rushing out of him, leaving only blank terror, turning his wine scent to vinegar.  Peter forcibly reined his own anger in.  Neal’s Heat was definitely rising now, and it was starting to affect him.  He moved a few steps away, closer to the open doors, took a few deep breaths.

“I didn’t mean that,” he amended, then.  “I’m not going to send you back.  But I do mean what I said.  _No_ suppressants.  I _will_ put you on a leash and chain you at the foot of my bed while I sleep, if I have to.  Understand?”  The younger man scowled, but nodded reluctantly.

“Aloud, Neal.  Promise me.”

“I promise I won’t use any suppressants,” Neal repeated.

“Or anything else you know I won’t approve of.”  That earned another glare, but was dutifully repeated back.  The Alpha gave him a long look, not entirely sure he trusted the promise, but then he just nodded.  If the omega _did_ start using something, he wouldn’t be able to hide it for very long anyway.

“Do you need anything else?” he asked.

“The key to the anklet and a two hour head start?”

“Not really what I meant.  Come on now, drink up.”  Neal gave the bottles another distasteful look, and Peter held back the urge to try and order him to it, knowing how well that would work.

“I told you, I’m not leaving until they’re empty.”  A slightly underhanded idea came to him, then.  “And the longer I stay, the more likely an accident is going to happen.”  As he had expected, Neal tensed up at the threat.

“Diana said agents were trained for that.”

“Yes, and the first rule is to minimise contact during an upswing.”  The older man was about as likely to lose control at the moment as his CI; even if he were that unprofessional, the inevitable protests would stop him.   He wasn’t above using the man’s fear against him, though, right now.  It wouldn’t really hurt him, and Peter wasn’t in the mood for a long argument.

After a moment, the omega reluctantly downed the bottle he held, as well as a second, giving his handler an irritated look as he did so.

“Good boy.”  The look turned into an outright scowl.  Peter ignored it.  “You’d better drink the rest of them, as well, and what you still have in the fridge.”  Which was probably everything Diana had bought, minus the two she had forced on him.  “I’ll check in on you tomorrow, and Tuesday, and if you’re still looking half-starved, I’ll put you on house arrest the rest of the week.”

“What?  You can’t…”  Neal shot up, and the agent gave him a warning look.  “Peter, I’ll go stir-crazy…”

“Be glad I’m not forbidding your friend from visiting.”  The omega looked suddenly nervous.  He really was off his game when he was in Heat.  Diana had said so, but he hadn’t really believed her.

“How did you know I have a friend visiting?”  It had been a shot in the dark, actually, but an educated one; that mentor of his, probably.

“I know a lot of things you don’t think I do,” Peter answered, mysteriously, moving toward the door.  It was always better to keep the conman off-balance.  And it wasn’t really a lie; he did know a lot of things the omega didn’t think he did.  Very little of it was actually about him, but he didn’t need to share that.


End file.
